


Someone To Watch Over Me

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured and interrogated, Cassandra finds the company of Varric to be a greater balm than she realises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone To Watch Over Me

She does not remember exactly how she was captured. She remembers falling off the cliff in the wake of the dragon fight – remembers with terrifying clarity the drop, the screams of Varric and Dorian as their faces fell away in the darkness – and coming to her senses in the snowy drift that had broken her fall. She remembers shouting up to them, remembers assurances that they would find her... and then nothing.

She wakes in a cell, cold and bloody and chained up, and wonders how she could possibly have gotten into this mess.

 

*

 

It is four days before he comes.

Four days of depressingly little progress from her own limited investigations. There did not seem to be any connection between her captors and any of the Inquisition's known antagonists – no red lyrium, no mention of the Elder One, no connections to the Grey Wardens or the Venatori or anyone. At best, she had them pegged as slavers who knew what they had stumbled upon. At worst, they were idiots who had no idea of her strategic value.

Either way, they seemed determined to keep her alive, feeding her something depressingly fluid on a regular basis. It is a few hours after her latest meal – if it could be called that, a voice in her head that sounded a lot like Dorian sneered – that she hears a shuffling noise.

She smiles as he appears from the shadows. “Varric.”

He mirrors her expression. “Hey, Seeker. How you holding up?”

Shifting, she holds up her still-bound hands. “I have been better,” she says dryly. “Get me out of these?”

He examines the handcuffs, tutting under his breath. “Would if I could. These are Tevinter-made. Sparkler would have to disenchant them first.”

“Where is he?”

“Looking for another way in. We found a tunnel, but it collapsed behind me.” He crouches next to her, eyes glittering. “Are you really okay?”

She nods. “They have left me alone, for the most part. I rather suspect they do not know what to do with me.”

“Well, let's hope it stays that way.” He shrugs off his duster, draping it over her shoulders. “Come here.”

“I am fine,” she protests, but does not pull away as he rubs her arms.

“Stop being noble,” he scolds gently. “You freezing to death is not on my agenda today.”

Her body falls against his blue shirt, eyes closing for a moment. “Nor mine,” she mumbles. “I had rather hoped to break out.”

“Sparkler will come through,” he murmurs, arms wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into a tight embrace. “He always does.”

“Mm.” She feels tired, the aches of sitting vigilant pressing in on her.

“Sleep,” he whispers. “I'll keep watch.”

 

*

 

They fall into a strange pattern – she wakes to the slop hitting the plate, and after eating what she can she waits for him to come back.

“You do not have to stay,” she says the third time he returns. “I will manage fine on my own, if you need to get back to the Inquisitor.”

He shrugs off the duster, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “I'm not gonna leave you, Seeker.”

“It has been three days. Dorian has not broken through. No doubt they are concerned for you now.”

“I'm. Not. Leaving.” He kneels behind her. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“Here.” She twists her arm to gesture at the ache in her back. “They are getting more aggressive with their questions.”

“What are they trying to find out?”

“Who I am, why I am here, where – _oh_ -” She closes her eyes, a soft moan as his fingers dig into the aching muscles.

“Keep that up and I'll have another muscle to worry about,” he drawls.

She laughs. “Varric!”

“What? You _know_ how I feel about you by now.” He works his way up her spine. “For a Seeker, you're being quite dense about this.”

“It is not that I – I mean, I _know_ ,” she admits quietly. “I just...”

“You don't want to confront it,” he supplies, “because you don't know how you feel about me.” His hands still at her shoulders. “It's alright, Seeker.”

She shakes her head. “No, I – I am certain of _my_ heart, Varric. I am just... not certain I have read _yours_ correctly.” Her eyes open, looking up at the bars across the door. “Would you tell me if I was wrong?”

He does not answer, instead wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder. And then he hums, a soft song she remembers from a faraway time. It makes her sad and strangely hopeful all in the same breath, and she mumbles the words under her breath.

“There's a somebody I'm longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be someone who'll watch over me...”

 

*

 

On the fifth day, she does not move at his approach.

“Seeker, you're shivering.” He drapes the duster over her shoulders. “What's wrong? What did they do to you?”

She shakes her head. “I am just tired, Varric.” She looks up at him. “Something is wrong and I cannot shake the feeling.”

“Everything is wrong,” he points out with a wry smile. “What specifically bugs you right now?”

“You.” Her hand reaches for his. “You keep coming to me, raising my spirits and warming my heart, but there is no other sign or indication that anyone is coming. I do not know what to make of it.”

He smiles sadly at her. “You always knew, Seeker. Look at my shirt.”

And she does, really looks at it for once, reaching out with shaking fingers. The feel of it had been strangely reminiscent of something, and only now does she remember what.

“Galyan's shirt,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “This is _his_ shirt.”

“Stay with me, Cassandra.” His voice wavers only slightly. “You know all of this is a hallucination – they've been drugging your food since you got here, to try and get you to talk. But you made me, instead. And you _know_ why you thought of me, why you brought _me_ to life and not anybody else. You need this little asshole part of yourself right now, because you -”

“I need you because you believe I am unbreakable,” she murmurs. “You believe I would not say a word.”

“You _are_ unbreakable. And deep down, you _know_ that.” She can feel his hand squeezing hers, and she wants to cry out at the injustice of it, that her mind could make that sensation so realistic. “Just like you know that I love you. Just like you know we're coming to find you.”

“They are coming.” She can feel their footsteps, the ground shaking slightly. _Four men. Always four._ “Stay with me. Please, stay with me this time.”

“I'm always with you, Seeker. Just don't open your eyes and I'll be with you the entire time.”

“Varric, please -”

Her eyes open, and he is gone. Her stomach lurches, throat tightening as the door opens.

_Unbreakable_. The men unlock her handcuffs. _He would tell stories of your iron resolve_. Her fists clench as they grab her arms. _Make them stories worth telling, Seeker_.

The first punch connects _hard_.

 

*

 

Exploring their base, she finds little of worth – they had nothing to explain their reasons for being there. Even more concerning is their lack of supplies. She would not last the week.

“You could try and get your bearings out there, but there's no guarantee you'll find civilisation before the water runs out,” reasons Varric, leaning against the doorframe – and she stops, closing her eyes, because it still feels worryingly real and she is getting comfortable with it. Once the real Varric was back, she would have to readjust. It is not a happy thought – and he picks up on it.

“Hey. You could just _talk_ to me about these feelings. You know, like normal people do?”

“Shut up,” she murmurs, little heat in her voice as she rifles through another pack.

“Cassandra, sit down.”

“Why? Do you wish to lecture me on my -”

“Sit down before you fall down,” he warns, and she is overcome by a wave of exhaustion, her knees buckling as she sinks into a chair. “You need to rest. Whatever they were feeding you, it wasn't enough.”

She smiles thinly. “I have bested them, only for them to claim victory.”

He kneels next to her, his eyes as honest as she remembers them to be. “You don't believe that.”

“Do I not?”

His hand rests on hers. “Would I lie to you?” A beat, before he grins. Her heart lightens. “Take heart, Seeker.”

“I would,” she murmurs, “if I thought it belonged to me anymore.”

“Then ask me for mine in return,” he offers, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “if you're brave enough to take it.”

A noise echoes through the building. The feel of his lips fades, and she opens her eyes.

In the doorway stand the men she had thought long gone – the Inquisitor, a grin forming on his scarred features, Dorian leaning heavily on his staff, and Varric Tethras, lips parted in surprise as his eyes stare into hers.

“Varric?” she whispers.

“Seeker,” he breathes.

Dorian is by her side in a moment, tilting her face up to examine her eyes. “Look at me, Cassandra,” he murmurs softly. “Maker, you're quite the sight for sore eyes. We feared you lost.”

“Is it over, Dorian?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “Yes, it's over. Varric, help me with her.”

The dwarf is by her side in an instant, strangely quiet. Her hand reaches out to feel his tunic. She manages a weak chuckle. “Red. Good.” And she promptly passes out.

 

*

 

She wakes to find him at her side – red tunic, she thinks, red tunic and worn hands and strong heart. Her memory had been impressive, but the real thing was infinitely more solid.

“Varric?”

He looks up, smile soft. “Hey, Seeker.” He shuffles closer to her bedroll. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” she admits, smiling slightly.

“Sorry,” he says quietly.

“What for?”

“It's my fault.” He runs a hand over his face, the smile lost. “Everything that happened to you, right from when you - when you fell. If I hadn't insisted on cutting through the hills, we never would have found the dragon and you wouldn't have...”

She reaches to hold his hand. “It is not your fault,” she murmurs.

“You fell so far, and I thought -” He stops, shaking his head. “We couldn't get down to you, and by the time we made a path, there was no sign of you. Nothing at all.”

“How did you find me?”

“Honestly? We got lucky. The Inquisitor wouldn't give up, and in time we found tracks that led us to an underground tunnel system. And... there you were.” There is a strange look in his eyes, and she half-fancies he might speak further, but nothing else passes his lips.

She sits up awkwardly, and he moves to help her, one arm supporting her back. His warmth is wonderfully close, and she leans into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Varric,” she says after a long moment, “I want to thank you.”

He turns his head slightly. “What for?”

“You believed in me, when I doubted myself.” She smiles, closing her eyes as she bathes in his presence. “I had visions of you. They wanted me to talk, but I saw you and stayed strong.”

He chuckles. “Can't get rid of me, even when I'm not around.”

She shifts slightly, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. “So it seems.” His eyes are gentle, and she thinks on her visions, on the wisdom she had found there. _I'll keep watch. For a Seeker, you're being quite dense about this. There's a somebody I'm longing to see..._

_Ask me for mine in return, if you're brave enough to take it._

Her hand comes up to rest at the back of his head.

“Seeker?” His voice cracks, and she smiles.

“Varric,” she whispers, leaning forward to steal a soft kiss. His lips are hesitant, surprised by her boldness, but his hands curl around her waist and pull her in closer as his eyes close and he opens to her touch. Her hand tugs at the tie in his hair, loosening it before her fingers thread through his locks, and she makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat.

The kiss turns heated, his teeth teasing against her lower lip as he lowers her back down on the bedroll, and her hips roll against his. Fingers quickly find the hem of her tunic, slipping under to trace the lines of her waist, and she makes another noise, pressing against him -

“Whoops,” says Dorian loudly from the entrance of the tent. “I'll come back, shall I?”

They break apart, his forehead against hers and breath mingling as she lets out a soft laugh. “Yes,” she says, “I think that would be wise.” The mage laughs at that, leaving the tent as quietly as he had entered.

Varric reaches up to stroke her face. “Well,” he admits softly, “I wasn't expecting this, but it's a nice surprise.”

“What, that I care for you?” She pulls a face. “Hardly a surprise. I have known your heart for some time, and I am rarely subtle with my own feelings.”

He leans down to press a light kiss to her neck. “Seeker, if I'd known...”

“I did say 'rarely'. Perhaps, this time, I was hesitant. I... did not know for sure that you felt the same.”

“Well, allow me to put your mind at ease.” His lips hover by her ear, voice low. “I care for you a great deal, Cassandra.”

A strangled noise escapes her throat, heart suddenly tight and heat flaring in her core. “Varric -”

“I care for you more than an archer should care about his shield, more than a writer should care about his number one fan. And I thought I had lost you twice in these past few days, and it damn near killed me that you didn't know. I won't make that mistake again.”

Her hands bunch in his hair, head turning to kiss his cheek, his chin, his lips. “I was afraid to tell you,” she admits, “but you were with me in that place. You watched over me, as you have always done.”

“It was all you, Seeker. All you.”

“No.” Her smile is gentle. “No, it was you. I carried you in my heart, because it belongs to you.” She revels in the spark that blooms in his eyes. “You have it, if you wish for it.”

He cradles her face lightly, smile bright. “Gladly,” he murmurs, “if you'll have mine.” Her heart is full to burst, a laugh springing from her chest as he pulls her into a tight embrace. “If this is what falling off a cliff leads to, then -”

She kisses him gently, cutting off his words before lying back with a laugh. The song that had haunted her comes back to mind, sweeter for her victories, and the words roll off her tongue with ease in the comfort of his company.

“Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart he carries the key; won't you tell him please, to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh, how I need... someone to watch over me.”


End file.
